Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He was Creed Jameson to a T.
Owen was a senior in high school, gettin’ in more trouble than they knew what to do with. My brothers were bad boys, exactly like our father.
Just thinkin’ about them made my heart ache. Our families didn’t know about our fake marriage, no one did. Not even Shiloh. And because of that, I separated myself from them a lot. Fearin’ they’d figure it out, but maybe they already had. In spite of nobody ever speakin’ a word about it.
The Prez still hated Jackson with a passion but loved his granddaughter with all his heart and soul. To this day in his mind, I believed he thought Bailey was an immaculate conception.
Jackson’s grasp on my hand tightened when a news reporter specified, “Let’s talk about your charity you hold so near and dear to your heart. You have raised millions of dollars, donating it all to your organization, Never Forget the Sunflowers, for early-onset dementia.”
“Mmm hmm...” was all he could manage to say. His grip intensified firmer.
“You take so many hits on the field, we worry about you, Jackson. How is your mental health?”
“It’s fine.”
“I read somewhere that kids of parents who have early-onset are at greater risk to deter themselves as well. Any thoughts on that?”
The expression on his was ready to destroy. “Who the fu—”
“My husband’s memory is better than mine,” I intervened again, knowin’ he was about to go off.
To this day, he never opened the envelope. It sat in the drawer of his nightstand as if it were a tickin’ time bomb about to detonate.
We didn’t talk about it either.
Another thing we pretended would just go away on its own.
“So you’ve taken the test? You’re not—”
“I’m sorry. I thought this was a press conference to talk about Jackson winnin’ the Super Bowl, not an evenin’ special with Barbara Walters.” I eyed the nosey bitch up and down, spewin’, “Next question, please.”
She cleared her throat, and the next reporter carried on while Jackson looked me over before leanin’ forward and kissin’ my neck.
Whisperin’ in my ear, “See, Gremlin, you do still love me. Thank you.”
Our eyes connected as if we were the only two people in the room, filled to the brim with reporters. There was somethin’ about the way he was starin’ at me.
With so much appreciation.
Value.
Love.
Like I was his most prized possession.
There was no hesitation, no second thoughts, nothin’ that could stop me from leanin’ toward his mouth. His eyes widened, realizin’ what I was about to do.
“Jackson, where do you plan on displaying your trophy?” another reporter continued on, tearin’ me out of my daze of wantin’ to kiss him.
Except, in true Jackson Pierce form, he didn’t back down. Growlin’ from deep within his chest, he gripped onto the back of my neck and slammed his lips against mine.
And for the first time in over four and a half years...
I. Let. Him.
<>Jackson<>
Now: Twenty-five years old
I always knew she still loved me, but having her come to bat for me.
Protect me...
Was something I couldn’t overlook or deny. She was going to kiss me, I had her. Right then and there, she was mine.
My Gremlin.
My Harley.
My baby girl.
Fuckin’ reporter.
There was no way in hell I was going to allow this moment to be taken away from me.
From us.
In less than a second, I was dragging her toward me to claim those pouty lips I’d been dreaming of for so fuckin’ long. Kissing my wife was what I pictured coming home after war was like. In a way it was. Our battle was far from over. We’d fight again, but my white flag was up.
Blowing in the breeze.
Surrendering.
To her.
My family.
My whole entire world.
After all these years, all the bullshit we’d been through together, the ups and the downs...
This kiss.
This instant.
This place in time.
Turned into its own thing. Something neither one of us could understand or refuse. Something neither one of us could control.
The electricity...
The connection...
The intensity...
Was constantly right there. Wavering and waiting for either of us to make the move. All we had to do was look at each other and sparks fuckin flew.
This was no different.
It was everything.
It was us.
Mine.
Her lips parted as I slipped my tongue into her waiting mouth. When she breathed out, her scent was all around us, consuming my desire to feel her wrapped around me.
It didn’t take long for her lips to move against mine, demanding a response that only she stirred within me. Her tongue was smooth and felt like silk. Like fucking ecstasy all rolled into one. I started to kiss her deeper.
Harder.
Longer.
Her breathing picked up, engulfing me in nothing but my need to keep going and claim what I’d wanted for too damn long.
But...
The fuckin’ flashing cameras started going off, and Harley sharply pulled away from me. Earning her another growl to erupt from my chest.